Alive
by ZaMaShi
Summary: In a split second, Yato makes a dangerous mistake. Living spirits aren't supposed to be shinki.


Alternate Universe Housekeeping Announcements:

For the purpose of this story, Fujisaki is a normal, unremarkable high school boy.

Yato and Hiyori have never met.

Hiyori's tail has been omitted. (Sorry about this one- Really tried to include it, but it was screwing up the flow.)

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* * *

Two soft knocks, and the study door opened. "Master Ebisu, the god Yato is here as expected."

The hall light flooded the dim-lit study, rushing past the servant's polished leather shoes, over the lush carpet and handwoven Turkish rug to the grand mahogany desk where Ebisu sat waiting. He closed the old book before him, lest its pages be damaged by the light. "Send him in."

"The fugitive, Yato? Are you sure you want to get involved?"

"Yato wants knowledge, and I owe him a great debt."

"Very well." Iwami bowed and stepped away to bring his master's guest.

At first glance, Yato looked nothing like a god, more like a college boy picked up outside the gym. He wore a track suit, a torn up scarf, and his black bangs hung over his eyes. Then again, gods had no obligation to appear as expected.

"Iwami, you may leave us," said Ebisu.

"As you wish."

Yato waited for the door to shut, and then took to a chair in front of Ebisu's desk. "How's your health?"

"I'm well today. My herbalist has made sure of it."

"That's good to hear. Anyways, I was looking to tap into a bit of your expertise." Yato pulled from his pocket a broken sliver of a mask and passed it to Ebisu. "What's this look like to you?"

Ebisu turned the piece in his hand. By the curve, it appeared to be from a smaller mask that would fit in the palm of his hand. Both sides were white, with a single stripe of black on the convex side. The material felt wooden, shaved thin and frail. "Amateur work, with little force in it for purification. You couldn't control much of anything with this mask."

"I thought you might say that."

"Where did you get it?"

"Picked it up in Kyoto."

Ebisu met Yato with a solid stare. "So you _were_ there."

"I had my suspicions, so I went and checked it out myself," said Yato. "But I can say I didn't touch any of the foreign gods."

Ebisu handed back the sliver of a mask. "They'd object to being called foreign gods."

"Right, terminology. The foreign saints." Yato shrugged. "Back to our amateur mask. I was hoping you could explain the mechanism behind controlling ayakashi."

"You should try it yourself if you want to understand. The process is essentially the same as with a human spirit."

"Nothing you can get across with a simple explanation? My masochism streak's running thin."

Ebisu stood and turned to the cabinets behind him. He opened a drawer, revealing rows of masks. "It's a force of wills. If you have it in you to control them, they will yield." He took a mask and offered it to Yato. "Heaven may have set their taboos, but you and I are gods. As such, we can call anything to be our servants."

For the moment, the mask remained in Ebisu's hand, extended forward with stoic conviction. Yato stiffened, his lip turned up in distaste. Hesitantly, he stepped forward to take the mask. This one was firm, crafted after years of practice.

"Follow me," said Ebisu.

Ebisu summoned three shinki to his side, and with Yato, they boarded an elevator. Ebisu had called their destination the basement, but given the length of descent, bunker might have been a more appropriate term.

"You think if we go down far enough, we'll pass through to the lower realm?" asked Yato, dryly.

"That's nonsense," said Ebisu.

"Come on, it's a joke."

The elevator jerked to a halt, and the ungodly scream of an ayakashi tore through the air. A horrendous cacophony of tortured souls, the voice grew in volume until the elevator rattled, then as quickly the scream had started, a cold silence took its place.

Yato looked to Ebisu with eyebrows raised. "Is that one of your masked ones?"

The elevator door opened, and Yato's question answered itself. A cell the size of an auditorium was before them, and in it, a grand behemoth of an ayakashi. A tangle of ropes bound each of the creature's four wings to the walls, drawn tight, _tight,_ cutting into its wings until foul, viscous pollution dripped from its wounds. The ayakashi had fought against its imprisonment to exhaustion and a step further. Now it labored under the force of its own breath. On its back, was a mask.

"Never mind Mekki," said Ebisu. "It's well contained."

Were it anything less corrupt than an ayakashi, the sight would have warranted pity.

They proceeded past the creature's cell into a separate room. Stacks of cages holding smaller ayakashi bordered the walls. "I keep a supply for small-scale experiments," Ebisu explained when they entered. He prowled the perimeter and picked one for Yato.

It was an orange, mushroom-like blob, not big enough to reach halfway to Yato's knees. Even out of its cage, it didn't so much as notice its freedom, rather it hovered aimlessly in place, five centimeters off the ground. Its three eyes shifted, observing the gods and shinki surrounding it.

" _Nice smell_ ," it squeaked.

The surrounding ayakashi echoed its sentiments, and the room filled with squeaks and chirps of excitement. " _Smell_!" " _Good smell_!"

Normally, an ayakashi of this size presented no threat to any god, even when unarmed. Yet, Yato watched it with hesitation, the mask held firmly in his hand. Defilement was to be loathed and cleansed away. To call this as a servant, to give a name, life, and strength to a manifestation of vitriol was to invite the ayakashi to destroy its master.

Yato followed Ebisu's instructions, raised the mask, and named it Jikki. In an instant, it consumed him, the weight of loneliness and rejection.

 _Worse thaN a faILURe._

 _I'm nothING B_ UT a _burden._

 _Miserable friend._

 _Miserable woman._

 _No one can even stand to be around me._

 _Everyone would be better if I died._

The ayakashi's thoughts repeated, doubling over each other and jumbling into a senseless mantra. The emotions didn't even belong to Yato, yet a hole in his chest threatened to rip open from the weight of despair. The sting was like nothing like the stab from a sinful shinki. Everything rushed in heavy and crushing. Loneliness, rejection, guilt, a personal conviction of worthlessness. Just one small ayakashi carried all of that. Yato couldn't breathe under this weight.

The ayakashi's eyes were fixed on him, trembling as it watched. _"Smells niCE_ ," it squeaked, voice jumping in pitch on the last syllable.

"Yato, you must exert your will over it," said Ebisu. "It will yield."

"How?!"

Now, he was burning. Blue and black blight spread down Yato's back, stabbing and stinging, electric fire alight on every one of his nerves. The truth was, Yato deserved this. He was a god of misery. No one wanted to be near him, and the one person who treasured him, Yato had failed. He was the failure. Both the heavens and earth would delight to see him dead.

"Saiki."

To Ebisu's side, a shinki glowed white and jumped to cover his master's hands. The wooden mask hit the floor with a hollow clatter. Ebisu had crushed the ayakashi.

The room filled with squeaks and chirps of " _smells nice!"_ from all directions. Yato lay face down on the floor, blight receding from his skin. When he moved to push himself up, his hands were slick with sweat on the cold tile.

Ebisu extended a hand to help Yato stand.

"You're insane, Ebisu." Yato accepted and pulled himself up with ragged breath. "An ayakashi like that is nothing. How are you controlling that thing?" _Thing_ being the monster Ebisu named Mekki.

"Years of suffering and practice."

"You do know there's a reason why the souls of the dead are preferred?" asked Yato.

"Of course. But the sick will not be healed if no one is willing to study the disease."

Yato left Ebisu's residence with his head reeling. He needed time to recover after attempting that. The blight was gone, but inside of him, the little ayakashi had dug around and left something raw and hollow.

"The lower realm has been unstable recently," said Ebisu. "I can lend you a shinki. I heard you're without one at the moment."

Somehow, Ebisu had stumbled on just the words to rip open fresh wounds. Yato wanted his own shinki. "I'll pass. I know you don't care about using nora one way or the other, but you don't want any of yours hanging around me. I'll be fine."

In a slip of light, Yato vanished down to the lower realm, not caring where he landed.

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Chapter One

冬

Fuyu: Winter

I step up to my mark on the mat, and across from me, my opponent at the regional winter tournament. Just my luck, Sumiko Aizawa is from Honjou High School. The place is known for its martial arts programs. They make a showing at all of the tournaments - Judo, Kendo, Aikido, even the imports Taekwondo and Kung Fu. My school? We're just louder.

"Do your best, Hiyori!" That would be Fujisaki, second-year student and president of our Taekwondo club. He's a pretty good fighter, far from what you'd expect from someone with his personality, always polite and restrained.

"Knock out her teeth, Hiyori!"

"Show us some blood!" And those would be my friends, Yama and Ami, first-years like me. They're not so polite, restrained, or good at Taekwondo, especially Yama, as evidenced by the cast on her left arm from practice last week.

I should be nervous. This is my first tournament, and I wasn't even supposed to participate. I ended up as a last minute substitution when Yama got her cast. My team is relying on me. Every point I get goes to my school's overall score.

I should be nervous, but my concentration is so scattered I can barely focus. I woke up with stiff, heavy muscles, and my drowsiness from the morning has yet to wear off. I know this feeling well. There's a big storm on the way. Not rain or snow, though January has sent Tokyo more than its fair share of winter, this type of storm is from the far shore.

When those storms get too close, they try to pull me in.

At the word of the referee, Aizawa and I bow, and put on our head gear. I'm not the only one affected by the storm. An ayakashi clings to Aizawa's chest plate. It's taken the form of a green spider, the size of a large dog, with globs of saliva dripping from its mouth. Like most people, Aizawa is blissfully unaware.

'Stay positive, Hiyori!' I think to myself. 'You've got great friends here to cheer you on. Not to mention, you've gotten pretty good at Taekwondo.' Because if I don't stay positive….

I have to admit, the ayakashi has more of my attention than Aizawa. Its eyes are a sickly, bloodshot red, and all five of them are focused on me, but I won't look it in the eyes.

Because if it knows I see it, if I offer any negativity for it to feed on, that thing will come after me.

"Go!"

Our match starts. Aizawa's light on her feet, bouncing with energy. I am too. Just stepping up on the mat has flushed out my drowsiness with adrenaline. She eyes me from a distance, on guard from behind her mark.

" _LisTen to her STUpid fffrrriends. We can knOCK out thEIR TEEEeth_!" said the spider, its voice jolting in pitch and inflection.

'You're on the right path for life, aiming for medical school. Your grades are great. You make your family proud. And you won't look it in the eyes,' I tell myself.

" _Wwhat doEs this STUpid girl thinK SHE's goOD For? WasTe of Time_."

I won't look it in the eyes!

Aizawa shifts forward, her left foot headed for my chest. I feint to the side, and her kick slips by me. The spider grins as she passes. Aizawa bounces once and comes at me again. I block her with my knee, and we both back up to different sides of the mat.

I want to get that ayakashi off of her. Normally I'd let it be. They're everywhere. Anywhere people are, there are ayakashi feeding on their emotions. As much as I wish I could do something, a person's depression or anger or guilt is their burden to carry or cast aside. Get rid of one ayakashi, and another will grow in its place. I've learned the hard way that helping random strangers puts me in danger. I can't stop her from feeding it. But for the moment, I've got justification. I need to get it off of her so that it doesn't get on me.

I take a chance, and aim my right foot at the ayakashi.

"Hiyori! Show us some blood!"

Yama is a distraction, and my concentration slips for a second. Aizawa's foot comes flying at my face, slamming against my headgear. And then I'm on the floor.

8*8*8*8*8

I met with Yama, Ami and Fujisaki outside of the tournament. As expected, no one from our school took home prizes. Fujisaki did the best, advancing to the boy's quarter finals before losing his match.

Yama held out a sack with her good arm. "I bought you an award for your accomplishments."

"Accomplishments? The girl from Honjou knocked me out!"

"You participated, which is more than I could do," said Yama.

"At least it was entertaining," added Ami.

"Thanks."

Considering that this was only the first Taekwondo tournament in which I'd participated, it wasn't a complete disaster. Furthermore, Sumiko Aizawa and that disgusting spider went on to get first place in the girl's division, so getting knocked out by her in the second round wasn't such a bad outcome. I bet she'd been in Taekwondo since she was two. As for me, I joined the Taekwondo club last April for one reason alone, and his name was Master Tohno.

I'll admit to being a martial arts fan. Back in junior high school, I started watching re-runs of Tohno's fights at night. And then I collected his pictures, followed him on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, read his Wikipedia articles, memorized all of his moves, covered my bedroom walls with his posters. Above my desk, Master Tohno, with his rippling muscles gleaming with sweat, a true man among men. By my window, Master Tohno holding his opponent, Shouta Koizumi, in a death grip. And on the ceiling, to stare at as I fell asleep, Master Tohno and his Jungle Savate! Tohno's epic finishing move, a smashing kick right in the jaw, clearly influenced by Master Tohno's early training in Taekwondo. In fact, that was exactly what Aizawa did to me.

"And you won your first match, too," said Fujisaki. "I think you did great."

"Anyways, I saw what she bought. You want this." Ami nudged me, a sparkling glint in her eyes.

I took the sack and peaked inside. It was a book, neatly covered in the bookstore's wrapping paper. "What is it?"

Yama grabbed my shoulder and pulled me close to whisper, "Tohno x Koizumi Doujin."

I gasped. "The new one that came out today?!" Since I became a Master Tohno fan, it had been only a matter of time until I met Yama, and she sucked me into the darker side of the fandom, the world of doujin.

"I grabbed it just for you."

"What is it?" Fujisaki asked, leaning dangerously close to looking in the sack.

"Um, well…" I said, pulling the sack away.

"It's a secret among girls," said Ami. "Anyways, Yama and I had better head home. My parents are expecting me for dinner, so I'll see you guys on Monday."

"Really? Leaving already?"

"Yeah, gotta go!"

"Wait, why are we leaving?" asked Yama.

"Let's just go," said Ami, pulling Yama off to the train station by her good arm. To me, she sent a wink.

That left me alone with Fujisaki, and he didn't miss a beat.

"Why don't we go get something for dinner together?" asked Fujisaki.

I knew what those two were up to, ditching me with Fujisaki. Technically, he was my boyfriend - my first ever. He asked me out two months ago, and since everyone told me he was handsome and wonderful, I agreed. It took me two weeks and a kiss so zealous and slimy I thought I might puke to conclude I didn't like him.

A month and a half later, Ami's voice echoed in the back of my head, merciless, as only a true friend could be, "And _why_ is slug-tongue still your boyfriend?"

I still couldn't figure out how to go about with the breaking-up thing. It'd be easy if he were a stupid jerk, but Fujisaki was nice, smart, and polite all over.

I wanted to go home and read the doujin from Yama, but instead said, "Um, if that's what you want."

We ended up at McDonald's from my request to save time. He insisted on paying for my meal, "I'm the upperclassman and your boyfriend," so I picked the cheapest thing on the menu. I didn't want to owe him anything. Our conversation was dry without Ami and Yama around- school papers, upcoming club events, and things that impeccably nice guys did in their spare time.

"Do you remember Mr. Mori, from the home for the elderly?" asked Fujisaki.

I tilted my head to think about it. "Was that the man with Alzheimer's?"

Fujisaki volunteered at a nursing home twice a month, playing games and chatting with the elderly. I went with him once.

"Right, the one who thinks Japan's still fighting World War II. I accidentally told him that I'm in my school Taekwondo club, and he freaked out. Apparently, no one liked anything Korean back in the war. He said I have to learn Kendo to serve the emperor." Fujisaki laughed.

I didn't think it was funny, but I smiled anyways. "Sounds like an ordeal."

"Yeah. He asked about you, if you were going to come visit again. I'm surprised he remembered. What do you say, Hiyori?"

Back to the nursing home? I must have seen twenty black shadows of grim reapers wandering around the place, waiting to cart away the residents' dead souls. They're harmless, but not something I want hovering over my shoulder.

What was I supposed to say at a time like this? The words hanging on the tip of my tongue: will you please break up with me? I'd crush him.

"Mr. Mori is a handful," I said. "Maybe when we don't have Taekwondo club and tests…"

"I see." Fujisaki's smile dropped, and he looked at me with wide, puppy eyes. "Are you feeling alright, Hiyori? You're not eating much."

My hamburger sat in front of me, half-eaten. A goldfish-shaped ayakashi was swimming in front of Fujisaki. I followed its tail, careful not to look at the eyes. They started coming out as it grew dark. The pull of the far shore could be an appetite killer. I wrapped the hamburger up to throw it away. "Sorry, I'm pretty tired from the tournament and all."

"Do you think you're getting sick? If you are, don't worry about visiting the nursing home."

"Maybe. I should probably head home soon, before it gets dark."

"Oh. I can walk you back to the station."

By the time I got off the train at my home station, the sun had vanished over the horizon, leaving a red glow in the west. My whole body dragged like a ton of bricks, and drowsiness passed through me in waves. I couldn't remember the last time I felt the tug of the far shore so strong.

A storm was coming tonight. A strong one. I could already see it forming, a black haze of twisted emotions, hovering over the rooftops like a swarm of gnats. Now that the tournament was over, I was getting nervous. On a night like this, an ayakashi like the spider I saw today would be the least of my concerns. The sky was swarming with them.

On my way home, I stopped at a small shrine not far from my house. This one is devoted to Tenjin, the god of studying. If Fujisaki ever insists on coming over to my house, I think I'll bring him here. They say Tenjin gets annoyed if you bring your boyfriend or girlfriend to his shrine, and makes you break up.

When I stepped past the gate, I saw a girl named Ayu collecting wishes written on wooden plaques. Ayu is unnoticed by most people, a denizen of the far shore. Ayakashi may be the most prevalent spirits around, but they are only one kind. Spirits of trees, mountains, and rivers, the gods of Japan, and the dead all dwell on the far shore. Ayu is a shinki, a ghost called to serve a god. She died more than fifty years ago.

She waved at me and came over. "How are you feeling, Hiyori?"

"Like there's a storm coming," I said.

Ayu gave me an uncomfortable smile. "You have to stay in your body tonight. Lord Tenjin said it's a bad one. There's a vent opened not far from here."

"Don't worry, I already know better than to go exploring on a night like this. But still, I came to borrow a little bit of purification water. You know, ward off anything that comes around."

"You can help yourself to however much you need," said Ayu.

I stopped at the handwashing station and pulled three bottles out of my bag. Three bottles might be a bit much. It takes no more than a sprinkle to send an ayakashi fleeing.

Ayu hovered over my shoulder as I filled the bottles. "Are you sure you'll be fine all night? You're welcome to stay at the shrine. Ayakashi can't come in here after all."

"Thanks, but my parents would be worried if I didn't come home," I said. "And I'd rather not leave my body there and come back."

"Then how about this?" Ayu pulled a small bottle from her sleeve. "A tonic to help you sleep through the night. Lord Tenjin asked around for an herbalist, just for you."

"And here I was planning on drinking cough syrup!" I laughed and took the bottle.

"As long as you can laugh like this, you're safe in a storm," said Ayu. "But if anything happens, don't try to fight off ayakashi. You can outrun them and come here."

"Right, I know. Tell Tenjin thank you."

I ran the rest of the way home, my bag heavy from carrying water bottles. I was already tired from a long day, so I went upstairs, took both the present from Tenjin and the cough syrup, and crawled in bed.

8*8*8*8*8

By six pm, the sky above the Kanto region has turned soundly black. Clouds carried in by a northern wind obscure the half moon and few visible stars. The storm spreads with fury. Ayakashi fill the city, even the smaller ones venture out of the shadows, and the giants fly freely in the street lights.

Eight pm, the temperature plummets as a light mist drifts down. Gradually, shops close, the flow of pedestrians dwindles, and the train stations announce their final departures. No one wants to be out in the cold, wet weather. Among the stragglers, a lonely heart is easy to smell.

Once the ayakashi catch a scent, they seek out their targets and cling to their bodies. They feed on the despair, but as long as the people are alive, there's never enough to satisfy them. For the victims, their physical bodies and ignorance are the best defenses. They carry on, albeit miserable, unaware of the demons of the far shore. The lesser ayakashi will vanish when the sun rises.

Midnight, the heart of the storm has shifted over a main highway, attracting giant serpents to feed in the gloom. They're starving. On the highway, the lonely souls rush by too fast for the ayakashi to catch. Instead, they twist and swing around the passing cars. The mist has frozen patches of ice to the road, and it's only a matter of time before a car swerves and crashes into the cement railing.

Near the wreckage is the detached soul of a middle-aged businessman. The soul takes on the most familiar form it can, a near perfect imitation of the body he has lost. The only difference is the clothes; the soul wears a clean-pressed suit, while the body's is soiled with blood. He isn't dead yet, only tossed out of his body in shock. The serpents see him, and they dive. A bare soul without a body doesn't stand a chance. The soul is shredded, ripped to pieces and devoured.

One o'clock in the morning, ayakashi dance to the sound of sirens. The mist is now a sprinkling of snow, only the tiniest flakes.

8*8*8*8*8

When I woke up, I felt better than I had in a week. The achy muscles and drowsiness were finally gone, and my body was light. Seemingly, the storm had passed, the far shore receding into the shadows as the sun peeked over the horizon.

But when I opened my eyes, my room was dark. I turned to check my bedside clock. It was only 3:04, so I rolled over to go back to sleep. Long black hair lay on my pillow and beside it, slim shoulders dressed in cotton pajamas. _My body!_ Light switched on, I sat up. I reached towards my face, relaxed in sleep, and my hand passed right through.

Of course I didn't feel the pull of the far shore. It had already sucked my soul out of my body to leave me bare, exposed to the spirits. Considering the strength of this storm, I wasn't surprised, but somewhat disappointed. It had been over two years since my soul fell out accidentally. Until the near shore pulled me back, likely when the sun rose, I couldn't return to my body.

I climbed out of bed, wandered over to the window. The storm had brought in ayakashi by the thousands. They climbed on the houses, flew through the air, slithered on the streets. To be stripped bare on a night light this… A cold chill swept up my spine.

 _You can't be afraid_. Ayakashi were the incarnations of emotion. Anger, hate, envy, despair, fear – ayakashi were born of and drawn to these things. I couldn't be afraid. On my bedside table was a bottle of purification water from Tenjin's shrine. I could fight off small ones with that. Right now, what I needed was a distraction until the sun came up.

I grabbed my phone, some earplugs, and opened up YouTube. I'd already watched Tohno's last fight twice, with his sharp victory, but wanted to watch it again. A storm wouldn't bother me today. As I watched, I pushed down my fear.

" _Tohno just kicked out the leg of Kimura in a firm slice, and he goes for the face! Kimura's on his knees, holding in there…"_

This was the best part, coming up next… Tohno's glorious recovery after three losses in a row. I heard a sound, a soft beat of a drum.

 _"And the referee comes to pull them apart. Kimura's up again, facing Tohno in the center of the ring…"_

Again, like the beat of a heart, muffled by water. For an instant, I looked up from my screen. A single red eye opened on the wall in front of me.

Fear rushed over me like a cold wind. I'd caught its attention, looked at the eye square on. Now the ayakashi locked on to me. I tossed away my phone and grabbed the purification water, but when I turned to face it, there was nothing on my wall.

 _"Smell!"_

The soft squeak came from below. The eyeball rolled merrily on the floor, dragging along a string of sinew. I popped open my water bottle and applied a drop. The ayakashi was dead in an instant.

I forced myself to breathe, pushing down fear as best I could. It had been no more than a single eye, the smallest ayakashi.

Yet, as soon as it was gone, I heard another chirp. _"Nice smELL!"_

 _"GgoOd sMELL!"_

It was too late; I'd already fed them. The eyes were multiplying on my walls, far too many for me to count. On my nightstand, the clock read 3:11. Morning was too far away, and the fear I had let settle inside me was too strong for them to ignore. I didn't have a choice. I had to get to a shrine. I was as safe here as I would be outside.

The other bottles of purification water sat on my desk. Above them, several of the eyes had warped together, and the head of a crow protruded from my wall. Grabbing them wasn't worth the risk, so one bottle was all I had. At least it was the squirty kind.

No time to pause, I opened my window and jumped. The cold air cut through my pajamas like they were made of tissue paper. My bare feet landed on ice, and I slid, stumbling off the roof to the ground. I pushed myself up off the dead grass. If I were in my body, the fall might have given me a few broken bones.

Squeaks of " _Nice smell!"_ followed me. Red eyeballs were rolling, slipping, and bouncing off the roof. Good, they wouldn't stick around to mess with my body. I'd just have to outrun them.

I took off as fast as I could, forgetting the cold as I ran. Once I reached Tenjin's shrine, they couldn't touch me.

8*8*8*8*8

With a slip of light, Yato stepped down to the lower realm. His place of landing was an abandoned residential street. Heaven's blue sky and midsummer warmth were gone, replaced with the dead of night, white breath and the bitter nip of winter air.

He pulled a flip phone from his pocket and waited for the connection to refresh. 03:16 am January 18, Tokyo, -8 C, no missed calls or messages. "January already? I always forget how fast time gets screwed up in the heavens."

Yato tucked his hands in his pockets and started down the street. Not far from the area, a thick black cloud of gloom extended up into the sky like a vortex, drawing in ayakashi to feed. That a storm could grow unchecked to such proportions spoke to the state of the heavens.

He'd normally call this a good night to hide away at a shrine, but presently, maybe three out of eight million gods would be happy to let him hang around until morning. For now, he'd head away from the center of the storm.

He didn't get far before something tugged at his pant leg. The thing took the form of an ant, and although small for an ayakashi, was disgustingly huge for a bug. Its blood-shot eyes peered up at Yato. _"SmeLLS NIce."_

Yato kicked it off and squashed it, but by the looks of it, it had friends. Ants crawled out of the soil, the trees lining the road, and the cracks in the pavement. "Just my luck. The day I'm without a shinki I fall in a nest."

He had one option: run now, think later. Yato tore down the street. His current direction would take him to the cloud of gloom, so he veered off the main road into an alley. Even the back streets were clean to a fault, next to nothing around that Yato could use to defend himself. He jumped on a trashcan, knocking it and its contents into the stream of ants. A few of them clumped around the mess, disoriented, and the rest charged forward.

The trashcan bought him a second or two. Yato reached the end of the alley, onto a dimly-lit street. In front of him, apartment balconies extended up on a high rise complex. Then, not too far ahead, a beacon of light: a blue sign of a Lawson convenience store. What other than a convenience store would be lit up and open at such an awful hour?

Small ayakashi like those hated light. It would slow them down, and whatever followed him all the way, he could handle on his own. So he headed for the Lawson, a block away yet.

He didn't think to look up, not until a rush of wind whipped past him. Another ayakashi, the size of a whale, landed in front of the convenience store. Hairy wings stretched out to fill the street, and the eyes-the thousand puke-yellow, sickly eyes twisting and squeaking on the creature's legs, body, and wings-trained their focus on Yato. _"Smell! Good Smell!"_

He swore to himself. This one was too much without a shinki. Meanwhile, the ants were crawling out of the alley. He could still get away. Up wasn't an option when the things could fly. Take a chance and run for the alley across the street, or blitz through the ants.

A drop of water hit his cheek, cold as ice. The ants scattered, and the moth ayakashi shrieked, steam rising from its right wing as if it had been hit with acid. It slopped over to wriggle its legs in the air. The amount of damage wasn't enough to kill an ayakashi of that size; it would regenerate within a minute.

"Purification water?" It had to be, but where did it come from? Yato tilted his head up.

The source was perched on the roof of the ten-story apartment building, a spirit in pink pajamas with a well-aimed water bottle. She wouldn't be safe there for long. Flying ayakashi would swoop in and devour a spirit like her.

Yato jumped, springing from balcony to balcony up to the top of the complex. He swung over the railing and landed in front of the girl. She stumbled and fell backwards in surprise. "Spirit, what are you doing wandering about on a terrible night like this?"

"I was trying to get to a shrine – they started chasing me."

"I can get you there, but I'll need you as a shinki."

"What? I can't become a shinki," she protested.

"You wanna live?" he asked.

"Of course, but-"

"Then lend me a hand."

Yato raised two fingers and extended his arm in the shape of a spear. A brilliant white light engulfed the girl, the connection between god and spirit. "To you, who have no place to go and no place to return."

Her eyes stretched wide with fear, and Yato hesitated. Even if she didn't want to be a shinki, this was the only way she'd be alive in the morning.

"I am the god Yato. Bearing a posthumous name, I grant you a place to reside and make you my servant. Your name will be Fuyu, your vessel, Tou. Come to me, Touki."

The name was sealed, and the spirit Yato had named Fuyune condensed into white light. Strangely, her memories did not come to him; instead, there came a rush of adrenaline-laced terror, fear for her soul in the face of ayakashi. Fuyune's light wrapped around Yato's feet and formed into a set of gray, knee high boots.

"Boots, not a weapon?" There was a possibility Fuyune's soul had been damaged— she did say she couldn't become a shinki.

Yato took off the building with a running leap. The moment he jumped, he felt the difference. She was strengthening him. Three buildings over, he landed with ease. Yato tapped a toe behind him and then leaned forward to feel the boot's material. Maybe he could use her.

The moth ayakashi had put itself back together and stretched its wings to take to the sky.

"Hey Fuyune, I'm gonna kill the moth-thing. You ready?"

She didn't respond, likely too disoriented. Yato walked to the edge of the roof and jumped. He spun as he fell, bringing his foot forward to tear through the wing. The ayakashi's cry fresh in the air, Yato aimed for the body. At the point of impact, cracks rippled out like a crater. Touki didn't cut; she brute-force-crushed. The monster vanished into an array of purified rings.

"Not bad." With confidence, Yato returned to the rooftops to seek out a desirable shrine. Namely, one where the god wasn't home.

*8*8*8*8*

The world before me was frosted over, as if viewed through white, crystalline glass. I wasn't even in that world. I was with him, the god who called himself Yato, suspended over reality half a dimension away. Yato had jumped off a ten-story building and crushed a monster size ayakashi like it was nothing. Now he jumped from roof to roof. I couldn't say how, but I felt his every step.

Where was I?

Yato had extended his hand toward me. I heard his voice, saw him speak, but his words didn't reach me. With two fingers, he drew in the air, straight and circular motions. As his hand moved, a trail of crisp white light followed his fingers. There was something in that light. Purity, sanctity, energy – I couldn't look away. Five clean strokes, and he stopped. The simple character 冬, winter, hung in the air in front of me.

Then, my body, or rather its shape as imitated by my soul, was gone. The hanging strokes of light brightened and swallowed me. My soul stretched, twisted, and mixed with the light, until I and everything around me became nothing. In that moment, only one thought registered. It was warm. Seconds ago, I could have frozen in the cold, but everything in this frosted white world radiated warmth.

After half an hour in the sky, Yato found Tenjin's branch shrine. He landed and walked in through the gate.

"Revert, Fuyu," said Yato.

My vision turned white, and my soul reformed to the shape of my body. I checked my arms and legs. I was back to normal. The white warmth that enveloped me disappeared, and for the first time since I leapt out my window away from ayakashi, I wasn't running for my life. The cold was already sinking in.

Yato stood beside me. I would have said thank you, but the only thing on my mind was the cold. "It's freezing. I'm going up to the shrine." I bowed briefly in apology and ran over to the steps. The icy stone path stung like fire on my bare feet. A few hops up the steps, I huddled into a ball in front of the building, covering my feet with my hands. It wasn't much, but the wood was warmer, and I was out of the wind.

Yato climbed the steps and stood in front of me. He shrugged off his jacket and handed it down. "Here, take this."

"Won't you be cold?"

"I'm a god. I'll be fine."

"Okay then, thank you." Gratefully, I took it. I put the sleeves on backwards and covered my knees with the back of the jacket. It was warm from being on him, and when I pulled it on, I caught a strong whiff of something. "This smells…" I tilted my nose down to my shoulder, "really nice."

He stiffened slightly. "Oh, um, you're welcome."

"You said your name was Yato, right? Did you really make me a shinki?"

He nodded. "Sorry about that. I know you didn't want to become one, though you would be safer attached to a god."

"You don't need to apologize, thank you for getting me out of the storm. I haven't seen one like this in a couple of years. I was surprised, that's all. I didn't know that someone like me could become a shinki."

"I don't know what gave you that idea. From my perspective, you'd make a great shinki, Fuyune."

"Fuyune?"

"Fuyune is the name I gave you, if you want it."

Promptly, I shook my head. "Oh, no thank you. I'd rather you call me Hiyori."

Yato froze. "Wait… How do you know your name?"

"How wouldn't I?"

"I've never met a ghost with any memories intact."

I laughed. "No, no, I'm not dead. I can leave my body and walk around as just a soul, but I'm still alive, not a ghost. Tonight, I sort of slipped out by accident, and I was trying to come to this shrine to get away from the storm. Is something wrong?"

He stared, the color in his face dripping away. "You're alive?"

"Mm." I nodded.

"I um… gave you a name. You see, if you're alive… Anyways, the name I gave you, Fuyu, it should be somewhere on your body. Can I see it?"

I thought for a moment, and somehow, knew exactly where it was. I pushed off Yato's jacket and reached for the edge of my pajama shirt. The character 「冬」, Fuyu, was stamped on my side. With all the shinki I've met, their name took on a reddish brown color, a singular mark on otherwise clean skin. Fuyu glowed a dull violet, and like a bruise, gray, blue, magenta, and purple globs leaked out from the name. The splotches of color wrapped around my abdomen, reached up my torso, and down my legs.

I looked up to the god. His face was pale, his wide eyes glued to the name he put on me. "That's confirmation, alright." Yato swallowed. "You're no normal shinki. You're still alive."

* * *

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